


Millie Happy Birthday, Y/N

by persequor



Category: NCT
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26881288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persequor/pseuds/persequor
Kudos: 1





	Millie Happy Birthday, Y/N

CHAPTER 1.

A loud, blaring beeping sound pierce your eardrums as you slowly regain consciousness. The scent in the air was warm, though extremely odd due to the soup being left to rot a few weeks ago. A feeling of familiarity and warmness inside your own home was there to comfort you, knowing that at least you weren't in some stranger's house. Ankles: saved. Tiredness weeping in the form of crust is making your eye itch as you lay sound fully in bed. Hand reaching for the musty alarm, you tiredly arch your head to review the time; and why the hell you set the alarm on a Saturday morning. From the corner of your eye, you spot a car pulled up by your window. It was rather shabby; although it looked like a blur. The final moment of peace and serenity was there before a shocking epiphany. Suddenly, realization rushed down your back like a Wellington wave.  
"Fuck, Fuck!!" you mutter, swiftly placing your glasses on. Fear pierced through your heart, with a gazillion stab wounds in between. You dare to oversleep on such an important day? The one that can define your life?! A harsh knocking at your door can be heard, breaking the silence which almost suffocated you with panic.  
"Millie, for fucks sake!" Harriet scolds, a look of rage which was staring through you. "How can you miss today. The day you leave. If it is not the ship that's going to take you off this orbit, It's going to be me god damnit!!! Get the fuck up!!!"  
"I get it! God damn," you moan, feeling your back crack as sit up, looking for your clothes. It's not like it will matter what you wear anyways; you will be suited in about 20 minutes. It's a 15 minute drive, so that means... You have 5 minutes to get ready. Though, from what it seems your amazing sister has brought in some casual clothes. Harriet continued to shout like a prison ward. Only prisoners are not in prison because now you are just laying in bed inside your own bedroom :/.  
"Here," Harriet groans; carefully placing the clothes on your bed. They were warm, and neatly ironed; and seems to have a special scent to them. Dazed, you held them close to your nose with a long inhale.  
"What's the smell for?" you mutter, quietly wondering if your own sister has poisoned you. At this rate, if you miss the takeoff you hope that it really is poison so you can stuff it down a certain coworker's throat.  
"It's lavender, since my diffuser is off all the time our house sorta feels the smell."  
"That's kind of gay because I am not dumb enough to forget my own home," you retort, although as a response you are met with Harriet's dead serious gaze as she places her hands firmly on your shoulder.  
"Once you are stripped of all freedom, what you are with is all you know." Is this the fucking purge? Are you going to go to prison? All it is, is just a roundabout trip in space. You were so sure, yet now your own sister is planting seeds of doubt in your mind. In order to calm her nerves, your blue optics avert to meet hers. "It'll be fine. The people I'm with have clean records you know?"  
Defeated, Harriet looks off into the distance, examining the car parked below. "I guess. Sometimes your closest friends can be your worst enemies."  
"Yeah..."  
"I'll be off then." Just when you thought you had enough of her rambling, she ends you an envelope. "Oh! And be sure to hand this to Johnny." Clumsily, and flustered she chuckles nervously.  
"Wow~~ Suddenly I'm your errand girl?" your smirk, examining the nicely put together envelope. But before you know it, she's gone. You quietly debate even bringing it, as you are aware to that he doesn't even know her. Only to just find out the contents... but maybe that's going to go to her grave.  
Letting out a deep sigh, you arise to your feet and begin to change clothes. Harriet selected out a beige hoodie, which was rather loose although extremely comfortable. Despite it being quite baggy, the rim of the sleeves fit nicely on your wrists. Beneath it, was a beautiful checkered skirt which hung to the middle of your thighs. The outfit was pretty unremarkable; although had a unique charm to it. Staring into the mirror, was yourself looking back at you. In the reflection though, you were able to spit s a shiny piece of jewelry which twinkled where Harriet left your clothes. Thank god you didn't miss it though-- the thought of her staring hopelessly in the left behind necklace would've broke you. "No necklace left behind," you snicker, recognizing the pendulem. It was a pink camilla, along with a pink carnation behind it. Filled in, was a rose tinted diamonds to represent the petals. Your tiny hand reached out for it, sensing a feeling of longing and heartache as you touched it. It loosely wrapped around your neck, although you could easily spot it from a distance. Watching the jewelry shine, the worry sets in on whether this job was a good idea. Too late to disagree, or detest, you brush past your door. Outside, your colleague is waiting for you. A light "hah" leaves your mouth as you imagine their anger for taking so long. However, in their shoes you might've been pretty unimpressed either. As you trot down the pathway, the driver flings the door open and motions for you to hurry the fuck up. Your walk breaks into a sprint, sprinting and rolling into the car.

"What the hell, woman?" you hear a midtoned, vibrant voice scoff. Averting your gaze, you can immediately recognize the source of the voice. Haechan. In astronaut training, he was a persistent hard worker. Not really a joy to be around, although he had his friends. Ask his friends, and they'd tell you he was pretty cool once you got to know him, but you always brushed it off. You never exactly liked clique-y people. His gaze was cold, and eyebrows arched as he stared deeply into your eyes. There was a tint of curiosity and straight up frustration. Taking a deep breath, he untensed his shoulders and leaned backwards into his car seat. Something told you that it was all going to be okay with him.  
"Well, sorry I guess," you fumble, turning your head to the road above. "I'm Amelia--"  
"Millie for short, right?" he cut you off, turning on the car (idk how u do that sorry). Stunned, your had snapped to look at him. Although, he wasn't looking back.  
"How'd you know that? That's kinda sus," you interrogate, raising an eyebrow. In waiting for a response, you suddenly see his eyes bulge for a moment, obviously in a bit of a panic. As if a light bulb lit above his head, he nonchalantly shrugged before relaxing once more. "You are a loud person. . ." Before you could really respond, he took a sharp right, causing you to gravitate to the right sharply. Not only was he rude, but also a bad driver. What the fuck.  
"Right. And you're Haechan. Always caused shit with our instructors."  
"Hah~" he pressed, rolling his eyes. "At least I made class interesting. Our instructors were complete assholes. I wanted to take off my boots and whack them on then nose. I hate ugly motherfuckers. And I *hate* being yelled at." inside your mind, you chuckled in the echoes of your head. He doesn't seem to hate you. Silently, you began to think how if he were to shut his mouth-- angry teachers wouldn't be too much of an issue; instead he was just melodramatic. Or attention seeking.  
"You say that but down here you are insulting me like a little pussy as bitch,"  
"Yeah but I'm not ugly." Haechan remarks, tapping his steering wheel with the tip of his finger.  
"Hypocrite. . ." you mumble, wanting to bash his head on the steering wheel.


End file.
